In the wood
My dog chased
A squirrel.
No thought of good
Or bad
Had he,
For he was free
Of morality.
In my mind
I often find,
Squirreled away
A thought
I ought
Not to think
Of play
With prey.
Chasing Squirrels
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Tag Archives: free verse
The Memory Remains
The memory remains
Of cold flames
And skin
Against skin.
I may have learned
Her real name
But my memory retains
Rough carpet burns
And a skirt
So short,
That, on first look
I mistook
It for a belt.
No lover was spurned.
She never returned.
There is Still Snow
There is still snow
And ice
In the churchyard nearby.
But below
There is know sigh
As vice
And virtue lie
Under December sky.
On the Periphery
Me, on the periphery
Engaging in desultory
Conversation with the barman.
As they sing karaoke.
I say goodnight
To the lone barman.
Momentarily partake
Of the firelight,
Then forsake
It for the night.
In Early December
In early December
November’s leaves still adorn
The woodland lawn.
Man’s pattern is made
In light and shade.
But the gardener’s rake
Rakes all leaves.
Endings
Soon November
Will become December
And January
Will follow on.
How soon
Another year
Is gone!
While there is Time
All this must pass away.
Yet, there is still time
To rhyme
Of nymphs in short dresses
Who play
In glades
Of the poet’s fertile mind.
Unmade
Gazing at my unmade bed
As a chill breeze
Enters in, I remember dead
Love. and girls who please,
(Though not for love).
Nor do I love
Such women.
But when we partake
In lust
Man half-believes
He can escape
The dust.
For lust deceives.
Abandoned
They couldn’t stay long.
A remembrance of hands
And an abandoned hairband,
Kept for a while,
Brings a sad smile
To a man’s ageing face
At a girl’s lost grace.
Work Meeting
As the meeting neared it’s end
My old friend
Who had not
Yet said a word,
(Leastways, I heard
him not),
Interrupted, and did say,
“Tick tock”.
Yet the clock
Is forever ticking away
our day,
Though oft we heed him not.
K Morris - Poet 